Chocolate Orange
by CretianStar
Summary: Sherlock uses Molly for lab access but he's done something stupid this time. He doesn't know why he's in her bad books but he does need lab access and for that needs to make it up to her! Sherlolly OTP challenge
1. Chocolate Orange

Okay: So it's a toss up between this pairing and JoelxWednesday of the Addams Family fandom. So I'm going to do both! Probably one of each! I think!

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30 Day Challenge

**Day 1: Holding Hands**

Sherlock knew Molly Hooper was infatuated with him; he was a genius, it wasn't hard for him to realise that Molly was obsessed by him. It had never bothered him before, in fact he was unscrupulous when it came down to it. He would happily trade on Molly's emotions, using her weaknesses for his gain.

He hadn't been to see her in a while, and may have promised her dinner at the end of the last visit after she cracked the rules for him yet again. He was hoping she didn't remember, after all the human memory wasn't too fabulous, unlike his.

When she refused to do him a favour, and none of the other tactics were working (insults and insincere flattery), Sherlock pulled out the big guns.

She was writing a case report on one of the unfortunates of the morning and pointedly ignored Sherlock as he swept into the room. Internally sighing, irritated with the stubbornness of the doctor, but he pushed it aside and plastered a seductive face on instead.

Laying her favourite chocolate, Terry's Chocolate Orange with popping candy inside, on the desk Sherlock gave her his most winning smile. He was somewhat disturbed when her mask was still in place. Even at chocolate… this was a tough one.

"Molly." His voice husky from the lack of use, made her turn towards him, the mask slipping slightly.

"Yes Sherlock?" She clipped out. Damn something had changed her mind, she was tougher to crack than before. _Damn she remembered._

"I just thought I'd bring you your favourite that's all Molly." He hesitated at her desk.

_Sherlock_ _hesitated_.

"Yes thank you Sherlock. You can leave then." Her voice was tight and Sherlock realised he would need more than chocolate to win this, she stood and started to pack away her files.

"Molly." He murmured, and grasped her hand, smiling inside as she stilled. He watched her close her eyes and take a deep breath but she didn't move her hand, she just stared down at their intertwined hands.

"No Sherlock." He watched in amazement as she pulled her hand from his and tugged off her lab coat. "Good night Sherlock." His normally fast working brain seemed to be stuck as the Doctor pulled on a dark blue mac and picked up her handbag. It was as she snapped off her desk lights that he finally reacted. Catching up with her in two long strides he tugged on her hand again.

"Molly please?" He felt the warmth of her hand in his and the pair looked at the grasping fingers. She leant towards him, and Sherlock felt himself tense – he hadn't wanted this, he just needed another few livers to experiment on, and here he was holding hands, gazing at her as she stared back at him. Her tired face stared back and he watched something change.

"Good night Sherlock. Thank you for the chocolate." She pulled away from him and waved the orange wrapped sphere back at him as she left through the double doors.


	2. An Answer from Haagen Dazs

A/N: So originally I was planning on doing all one-shots but in all truth I really didn't like the way they cluttered up my page, when I knew I could link and continue them and make them so much better! Anyway as always review whether it was bad or not!

WARNING: NAUGHTY LANGUAGE. (once)

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Day 13: Sharing Ice-cream

**An Answer from Haagen Dazs **

"Sherlock, it is my day off, kindly go away!" Molly was close to losing her temper over her flat intercom and Sherlock could hear it in her voice. However her behaviour had puzzled him for too long and he needed to solve it. That and John had ordered him to make amends with the young pathologist.

Molly had her finger off the button and was counting, slowly, to ten in an attempt to calm herself down. It was a precious day off for her and the insufferable man was ruining it. She was sleep ruffled, her hair tangled, body aching and the last thing she wanted was that bloody insensitive detective rattling away at her intercom at 7.30 in the morning. His reply tipped her over the edge.

"I know it is your day off, but I'm going to entertain you." Now normally, Sherlock _willingly_ coming to see her would send her into a squealing nervous frenzy, today it only served to make her see red.

"Sherlock Holmes, a day off means not seeing your emotionless face, not being insulted, jibed at, having my weight told to various members of Scotland Yard, nor snide accusations of my alcohol intake. Just fucking disappear!" She shouted through the buzzer and stormed back to bed. Flumping into the thankfully still warm covers she felt a strange sense of victory and wriggled back into her comfy spot with a small smile on her face.

Just as she was dropping off, her instincts signalled that she was being watched and sure enough as she cracked her eyes open a little a shadowed figure stood in her doorway, Molly screamed and launched the paperweight from her bedside table at the figure. At the last moment they ducked and there was an almighty crash as it hit the door and then the floor.

"Molly!" She heard disapproval in the voice. A voice she recognised all too well, in a tone she was very familiar with.

"Sherlock Holmes!" She shouted as she sat bolt upright, her covers falling away. "You broke into my flat?!" She hissed, her anger was insurmountable and honestly Sherlock had expected her to cave, and was somewhat surprised that she hadn't. She was also refusing to get out of bed, having pulled the covers back up to her chin and was visually daring him to come any closer or utter anything but an apology.

"Well I have clearly offended you this week and wanted to make up my unknown grievances to you Dr Hooper." He stated matter of fact as held up carrier bags as proof.

Her eyes narrowed and something in his last sentence hit a nerve. He watched the anger rapidly flood her eyes and then leave. Closing her eyes in defeat, not anger this time she sat up on her pillows once more.

"What did you do wrong Sherlock?" Molly asked suddenly, throwing the genius detective.

Surprised by this conversation curve ball Sherlock was stumped and for once out of his depth – this was _feelings_ and _emotions_ and he didn't work well with either of them, particularly of the female variety who he had deduced were all too alien. Molly had once fitted into his sweet little stereotype bracket in his mind palace but she seemed to have broken free and run amok until he was left bemused.

Five minutes on he was still silent.

"You forgot my birthday Sherlock." Molly murmured. "John would have reminded you and was kind enough to scribble your name on the card he gave me, but it was clearly an exasperated afterthought. Mrs Hudson baked me cupcakes, Greg got me a present, even Donovan got me a card! A separate card from the one signed by the rest of Greg's office!" Molly watched his blank face and shook her head as the guilt flooded his features. She gave a defeated sigh as the detective darted out of the room.

She almost got up when she heard him clattering about the kitchenette in her flat, almost. But after a particularly loud crash followed by a string of expletives and Molly had one foot on the carpet, Sherlock came hurrying in with a tray in his hands. Shooing her back into bed he placed the tray on her lap and Molly felt her angry resolve weaken significantly at the sight before her.

A plain plate had the words "Happy Late Birthday" written on in chocolate syrup while a bowl was filled with chopped fruit, all Molly's favourites, was on the left. On the right another bowl was filled with ice cream and finally there was a small bottle of chocolate sauce on the tray as well, with a spoon tucked under it.

Touched by the effort, Molly was pulled out of her sentiment by Sherlock creeping out of the room. Molly smiled and shouted after him. He turned to face her, no doubt expecting another barrage – after all women were confusing – he felt his spirits lift at the beaming smile on her face.

"Grab a spoon from the drawer and we'll share, there's too much for me here." Sherlock did as he was bid, for once and slipped his shoes and coat off before clambering onto the bed with his pathologist.


End file.
